


Walking Alone at Midnight-Thirty

by etothepii



Category: Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-01
Updated: 2009-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etothepii/pseuds/etothepii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So as it turns out, Captain Hammer is not as... as <i>sweet </i>as she’d thought he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Alone at Midnight-Thirty

So as it turns out, Captain Hammer is not as... as _interesting_ as she’d thought he was. But she can feel the kindness just under the surface, and she knows that he means well, even when he asks bluntly, near the end of their date, “So it’s time for the sex now, right?”

He has all the subtlety of, well, a hammer. But he also has a genuine interest in impressing her (when she’s in his place, he bends a metal bar end to end as if it were warm putty, before tossing it onto a pile of similarly bent bars), and he _likes_ her. He shows her his command center, his motorcycle, and even lets her touch the phone that connects directly to the Mayor’s office.

Everything he does screams, ‘I Want You to Like Me’. It’s cute. It’s sweet, and every time she notices it, she feels warmed inside. _He_ wants to impress _her_ , even though he’s the one with the huge house, the superpowers, and the private jet in a garage with no roof-openy-thing.

She’s not afraid of him, even though he’s so much bigger and stronger than her. His smile makes him blindingly handsome, and when he lays her down on his bed and runs an ungloved hand over her body, his touch is gentle. No girls (she knows there were others (many others), but he’s a _superhero_ , so that’s normal, right?) have ever complained about his... _technique,_ even though plenty have talked about him.

It’s over faster than she expects, and he rolls off of her with a satisfied grunt, mouth stretched wide in a grin. “And that’s the Hammer Experience,” he says, and punctuates his words with a pelvic thrust. “You need me to walk you home now? Lot of hobos outside, but you won’t need to be scared with Captain Hammer at your side.”

“I, you, you don’t want me to stay here?” They’d dated, and then he’d said, and then she’d thought -- but maybe she was wrong.

“Penny, that’d be silly. This is where I live, not where you live,” he replies, smiling indulgently at her, and she reminds herself that what he says can only be taken at face value.

Captain Hammer takes awkwardness and bludgeons it away with sheer cluelessness.

She gets out of the bed, holding the blanket to her chest to protect her modesty (too late for that, isn’t it, a part of her thinks).

“Oh. No, no, I’ll be fine. I can walk.” She puts on a brave face. She doesn’t think she wants to be near him anymore, right now, with the shards of her self-esteem scattered at her feet like broken glass. “I took self-defense classes in college, after... after I got mugged in my freshman year,” she finishes in a small voice, looking down.

“Do, do you want to, are we going to see each other again?” _Do you still want me_? No response.

When she sneaks a peek at him, he’s already buried his face in his pillow, and is beginning to snore. Oh.

“I’ll just let myself out, then,” she says to no one.

He’s not cruel, she tells herself as she gets dressed, retrieving her discarded pieces of clothing from the floor. He’s not _trying_ to hurt you. He just doesn’t realize how he _sounds_ , sometimes. It’s not on purpose, and he really is kind, under all that cheese and smarm. He’s a hero. He doesn’t have time to worry about things like, like _social niceties._

Her panties are torn in two, which had been romantic at the time, but now is just embarrassing. She stuffs them in her purse, and reminds herself to throw them away when she gets home.

Her jacket is mostly ornamental, and when she pulls it tightly across her blouse and buttons it up, she still feels the chill of the night air. Her apartment is seventeen blocks away. The buses don’t run after midnight. It’s going to be a long walk.

She feels the cold right down to her bones, and a small part of her wants a hug. Someone to hold her close and stroke her hair and tell her she’s loved.

The thought makes her think of Billy-from-the-Laundromat, who hides in his clothes and jumps when startled and always, _always_ looks like he needs a hug.

She wonders if this is how he feels all the time.

She hopes not.  



End file.
